


A Lonely Place of Dying

by SapphyreBlayze



Category: Batman (Comics), Batman - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Role Reversal, Angst, Bruce Wayne dies, Dick Grayson is Nightwing, Dick Grayson was Batman, Family Drama, Gen, Grief/Mourning, Hurt No Comfort, Jason Todd Lives, Jason Todd Needs A Hug, Jason Todd is Batman, Mental Health Issues, Minor Dick Grayson/Koriand'r, Post-Batman: A Death in the Family, Reverse Ethiopia AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-19
Updated: 2020-04-19
Packaged: 2021-03-01 21:33:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,934
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23733904
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SapphyreBlayze/pseuds/SapphyreBlayze
Summary: The Bat Cave feels like some sort of purgatory - big, and empty, too empty, like a monument Bruce had built to his own grief all those years ago.Now it’s Jason’s monument.Now it’s Bruce’s grave.Alfred reflects on what has become of Jason Todd in the years following Bruce's demise.
Relationships: Alfred Pennyworth & Jason Todd, Dick Grayson & Jason Todd, Jason Todd & Bruce Wayne
Comments: 16
Kudos: 171





	A Lonely Place of Dying

**Author's Note:**

> TW: character death, briefly suggested suicidal inclination

He doesn’t say a word to him when he enters. He never does anymore.

The dark silhouette of the bat dismounts from his bike, cape furling around him. 

He pauses for a moment, before tugging off the cowl, revealing dark red curls that cling to his forehead with sweat.

The traces of puppy fat are gone, face marred with scars, pale from lack of sunlight.

He looks much too old for such a young boy.

“Master Jason.”

Jason grunts, catching his eye. 

“How was patrol, if I may so inquire?”

Jason sighs. “It was fine, Alfie. Nothin’ exciting. Stopped a robbery, but it was no-one special. Just a coupla’ no-name crooks.”

“Well, I’m glad things weren’t too stressful for you.” 

“Hm. 'Suppose. ‘Specially after that mess last week with Crane.

Jason chuckles humorlessly, but Alfred can see the glaze of fear in his eyes. It had taken days for that fear toxin to fully leave his system. 

Jason had sounded so young, so scared, tossing and turning in bed, crying out desperately “ _Bruce! Bruce!”_

He hadn’t sounded that young since before that terrible day in Ethiopia.

Back then, Jason’s laughs were filled with humor. Alfred still fondly remembers watching the young boy skip down to the cave, armed with the trademark brand of good-natured teasing he loved to throw at Bruce.

_“C’mon Boss, you’ve been down here all day! You’re not an actual bat, you don’t need to live in a cave!”_

And Bruce would always turn to the boy, and smile, and follow him up into the Manor, where the sunlight fluttered through the windows. Alfred wondered how long it had been since Jason had looked out the bay windows, how long it had been since he’d sat in the library. Probably as long as it had been since he'd laughed a genuine laugh, rather than a mirthless snort. 

Alfred watches as Jason makes his way over to the computer, seating himself in the large leather chair that had once resided in Thomas Wayne’s study before being relocated to the Batcave, lighting a cigarette. He’s much taller now, a far cry from the wispy, malnourished boy who was once Robin - he strikes an imposing figure, six foot four with broad, muscular shoulders, even taller than this father had been. Yet, when Alfred looks at him all he can see is the little boy in the red hoodie who looked for all the world like he didn’t belong.

He might as well be swimming in that chair. A little boy playing dress-up in his father’s clothes.

The Bat Cave feels like some sort of purgatory - big, and empty, too empty, like a monument Bruce had built to his own grief all those years ago.

Now it’s Jason’s monument.

Now it’s Bruce’s grave.

Alfred turns for a moment, and sees his reflection in a glass case containing one of Bruce’s old suits.

Jason’s logged into the computer by now, pulling up the files he’s been mulling over for days. Sightings of a mysterious masked assailant lurking around Gotham, vanishing in clouds of smoke. Jason himself hasn't yet seen them face-to-face, but Barbara has sent him security footage along with her own analysis.

“Just what we need,” Jason had huffed to Alfred when they’d first gotten Oracle’s message, “Another dangerous crazy in this town."

He wasn’t wrong; truly their lives never seemed to offer even a moment of reprieve.

Alfred makes his way over to his young charge, taking a closer look at his appearance. The auburn curls are particularly unruly, visibly in need of a trim, and there are heavy bags under his eyes. The scars on his cheek and brow from the crowbar have faded, but to his eye are as ugly as ever.

This was no life for a boy. Such a burden of responsibility. Jason was only 19, he should be off in University, getting the English degree he always wanted, not slaving away in the cave, day after day, night after night.

Even Bruce had kept up the appearances of billionaire playboy Brucie Wayne; but there were no such expectations of Jason. After all, who would be surprised that the grieving son had become a shut-in? So Jason, who’d never had much of a social circle beyond himself and Bruce in the first place, had completely shut himself off from the world, devoting his entire existence to being Batman.

A role that was never made for him, but a role that had consumed him.

This wasn’t him. He wasn’t Batman.

But, if not him, who else would be?

Dick, with the same hollowness in his eyes as he'd had the night they'd first met all those years ago, a nine-year-old boy in a state of shock after the sudden, horrific demise of his parents, had been the one to don the cowl in the wake of Bruce’s death. Someone had to, lest anyone put two and two together, Batman vanishing right alongside Bruce Wayne would've been all-too-obvious, and Dick had been better qualified than anyone to take up the mantle.

But Dick was never meant for the life of a bat.

_Bats need the night, Robins need light._

Everyone who knew him could see the toll it was taking on him; he was a good Batman, every bit as skilled in combat and detective work as his father, but it _wasn't him_ \- he was forcing himself into a box he didn’t fit into, and was straining to break free, the grief of losing yet another father clouding him in a haze of sorrow and anger. Koriand’r had gone so far as to the Manor alone to talk to Alfred, pouring out her worries to him.

_“We are all so worried for him. Ever since coming back to Gotham he’s been closing himself off from everyone. Donna and Roy have been his best friends for years and they cannot get through to him, and as for me… it’s almost like I don’t know him anymore. He's so distant. I don’t know what to do, Mr. Pennyworth. With Bruce gone, you’re the closest thing to a father he has left… what do I do?”_

At first, Alfred hadn’t been sure what to do. He shared all the same concerns as Kory and the Titans, but he knew he couldn’t take the mantle from Dick. The boy was stubborn, more stubborn perhaps than anyone he’d ever met, and would refuse to stop being Batman. Alfred knew that Dick saw protecting Gotham as his way of honoring Bruce, and he wouldn’t want to let his memory down - especially considering how strained their relationship had been prior to Bruce’s death.

Dick hadn’t even been informed of Bruce’s death until weeks after the fact when he returned from an off-world mission, and he knew that fact had always tormented the young Master.

It wasn’t until shortly after Jason’s 18th birthday, that things came to a head.

Alfred hadn’t been surprised to find Dick and Jason in a screaming match in the Batcave - those had been unfortunately all-too-common these past few years - but he had been surprised when he heard what was being said.

  
_  
_ _“Absolutely not, Jason!” Dick roared._

_“Why the hell not?” Jason snapped._

_"Why not?! Well, I don’t know if you’ve heard, but I’m Batman now.” Dick spat back._ _  
_

_  
_ _“Yeah, and ya’ve been doing such a great job at it,” Jason rolled his eyes, “So great that your girlfriend was ‘round here crying to Alfred a few weeks about how much of a miserable asshole you’re being.”_ _  
_

_  
_ _“I’m not-!”_ _  
_

_  
_ _“Face it, bein’ Batman is ruining your life, Dickface!”_ _  
  
_

_“The city needs me!”_

_  
_ _“It needs Batman - nowhere in the fine print does it say anythin’ about Dick Grayson!”_ _  
_

_  
_ _“This is my home!”_ _  
_

_  
_ _“It’s more my home than it ever was yours!”_ _  
_

_  
_ _“Don’t you dare say that! I’ve been protecting this city for most of my life!” Dick sounded furious._

 _  
_ _“What was all that bullshit ya’ told Bruce about how ya’d outgrown it, then?!”_ _  
_

_  
_ _“Things were different then and you know it!”_ _  
_

_  
_ _“Yeah, things were different, right?! Before I ruined everythin’, yeah?” Jason’s voice audibly wavered, tears pricking his eyes._ _  
_

_  
_ _Dick swallowed, looking visibly guilty. It had been a long time since a particularly nasty argument only months after Bruce’s death where Dick had all-but blamed Jason for their father’s death, but Alfred could tell that the words still haunted them both._ _  
_

_  
_ _“I… That’s not… I,” Dick stammered, clearly attempting to cool his anger. “You’re too young!”_ _  
_

_  
_ _“Not that much younger than you were when you became Batman!”_ _  
_

_  
_ _“I had no choice! And you’re my little brother! It’s my job to protect you!”_

_“Protect me?! Ya’ can barely stand to look at me anymore! Ya’ won’t even let me patrol with you anymore, because you don’t trust me!”_

_It was true. Batman and Robin operated as wholly separate entities now, and people had taken notice._

_“It’s not that I don’t trust you, Little Wing, I just-”_

_“Just wha’?! Say it, say what you think I did!”_

_“I-”_

_Silence. They all knew what Jason was referring to. But Dick would never say, and Jason would never tell._

_“Jason… I…. I just- I don’t want this for you. It’s hard, and-”_

_“What, ya’ don’t trust me?!” Jason sounded desperate._

_“No, listen to me for a second, goddamnit! I want you to have a normal life, and you can never have that if you’re Batman!”_

_“Please, Dick…” Jason laughed, mirthlessly, “...I ain’t had a normal life since that day in Crime Alley. Maybe… maybe this is who I was always meant to be…”_

_  
_ While on the surface nothing had been accomplished that night except for licked wounds and hurt feelings, if one looked closely, they could tell that something had shifted in both young men. It wouldn’t be too long after that particular argument that Dick would be back in the blue and yellow of Nightwing, at the encouragement of Kory and his Titans teammates who he’d finally allowed himself to open up to once more, while Jason would be the one donning the mantle of the bat.

The line of reasoning recited to him was that the Titans needed Nightwing as a leader. But Alfred wasn’t blind, he knew Dick all-too-well, and he could see that it was really Dick who needed the Titans. He needed his friends, he needed to be free to fly, that daring young man on the flying trapeze, always a bird, never a bat. Nightwing had saved Dick’s soul.

But Jason, on the other hand?

It was he who’d been damned to a hell of sorts.

He was clearly just as miserable in the role as Dick had been, all anger and pain and hard edges, but Jason, if anything, felt that it _should_ be painful, it _should_ be a punishment. Unlike Dick, who’s guilt at Bruce’s death was more of the nebulous _“I should’ve been there”_ brand of survivors guilt that was bound to haunt a career hero after such a tragedy, Jason’s guilt was much more direct, much rawer.

Alfred had tried to reassure Jason over and over again that it wasn’t his fault, that it was no one’s fault other than the Joker, that Bruce would’ve died for him a hundred times over, but he could tell that Jason still blamed no one other than himself.

He saw himself as a failure, a failed Robin who got his father killed.

He’d even confessed to Alfred, on a particularly bad night, that he didn’t understand why he didn’t hate him.

_“I… I’m just some street rat who killed your son… Why… why don’t ‘ya hate me?!”_

The thought that Jason would assume that he’d blame him for Bruce’s death had never even occurred to him. The mere idea horrified him.

_“I could never hate you, Master Jason.”_ _  
  
_

His words however seemed to do nothing to quell Jason’s fear, and it was that idea, the notion that he was guilty and had to pay for his sins, that drove him to take up the mantle.

In Jason’s eyes, being Batman wasn’t a way of honoring Bruce’s legacy as it had been for Dick, but rather, a path to repentance.

And unlike Dick, who had another family with the Titans, Jason was truly alone, driving himself further and further into the pits of self-loathing as he put his life on the line every night; and Alfred knew there was nothing he could do to stop him.

He looked more and more like Bruce every day - like father, like son, one supposed, two of a kind, devoting themselves wholly to the ‘cause’ - but rather than seeing it as his lives’ mission, as Bruce had in his well-meaning but obsessive way, Jason saw it as his penance, his journey through the nine circles of Hell - equally obsessive, but more destructive. Jason and Bruce both cared about justice more than perhaps anyone else Alfred had ever met, and both pursued that path of righteousness at great cost to themselves. The only difference was that Jason didn’t care if he came home dead. Something had died in him already.

Was this perhaps what Bruce would’ve become had he not met a teary-eyed boy during a tragic night at the circus? Or was it something even worse?

Jason was still so young, only a boy, barely older than he’d been on a blistering day in Ethiopia when the bottom had fallen out of his world. Yet every time Alfred looked into his pale grey eyes, they seemed age beyond his years. As though the boy had died that day along with his father. 

The worst thing was the grim acceptance Jason seemed to have about it all, his whole life tangled up in Bruce's, even after death.

_ 'I shall but love thee better after death...' _

“...Alfred.”

Jason’s gruff voice draws Alfred’s attention.

  
  
“Hey Alfie, look at the screen for me, will ‘ya?”

  
  
Jason plays back the grainy security footage of the shadowy figure that Barbara had sent him.

  
  
“This guy… ‘s it just me, or is there something familiar ‘bout the way he fights?”

  
  
Alfred stares closer at the screen as he watches the mysterious assailant battle some of Black Mask’s thugs, and frowns.

  
  
“I suppose there appears to be some League of Assassins influence in his style.”

  
  
“I thought that too. But… there’s something more..” Jason ponders, gesturing with the cigarette as though it were a teacher’s cane, “Somethin’ else I just ain’t seein’. I need ta’ find this guy, fight ‘em face-to-face. Maybe then I can figure it out.”

The boy sighs, standing up from the chair and putting out the cigarette on its aging brown leather. “B probably woulda’ already solved this one by now.”

“Don’t say that, Master Jason. Master Bruce struggled as much as anyone else. Clues take time to fall into place. You are a brilliant mind, and you will figure this out. You always do.”

  
“I wish I could share ‘yer confidence in my abilities. Face it, I’ve never been as good as B or Dick.” Jason makes his way over to the case, pressing a hand against the glass.

"Master Jason, you-" But before he can continue attempting to reassure him, Jason interrupts.

“D’ya believe in ghosts, Alfie?”

Alfred pauses for a moment to consider his words. “Sometimes, Master Jason, you cannot help but believe that there are things beyond our understanding. Particularly when one leads such extraordinary lives as ours.”

“...D’ya think he can see me?”

Before he can answer, Jason continues.

  
“Wonder what he thinks of me now. Must think I’m a failure like everyone else. I… I know he’d hate what I did, but… I don’t regret it, I _had_ to.”

By this point, Alfred's sure that Jason barely even registers that he's there, and is talking entirely to the specter of Bruce.

His last remark was the closest he’d come to confirming what Robin had really done in Arkham that night, and Alfred didn’t dare draw attention to it, knowing that particular matter stood like a delicate china doll that would break if touched. Alfred couldn’t say he hated what Jason did. He was more than happy that the creature that took his son from him was vanquished from this earth. He just hated that Jason had been the one to do it; he’d heard the details of the case, the grizzly nature of the monster’s demise. A mere boy should not have been driven to that point. 

He hated how it made Jason see himself.

“I… I’m sorry, B,” Jason sinks to his knees, as though in prayer, reciting over and over again the words “I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” like a dying man in a confessional. 

Alfred makes his way over to the boy, and places a hand on his shoulder. “Jason, Master Bruce would be nothing but proud of you. He loved you, right until the very end.”

Alfred knows that for a fact. He’d heard the recordings from that day in Ethiopia.

He’d only been able to bring himself to listen to them once, but those final desperate words, _“I love you,”_ moments before the bomb went off still rung in his mind like death's chimes.

Jason doesn't say another word, but looks up at him, eyes glistening with tears, before placing his head in his hands, and weeping.

This is far from the first time Alfred had seen him like this, but it never hurts any less. He’d already lost his son, and now he felt like he was losing his grandson more and more every day.

There's was a lonely place of dying.  
  
  
  
  
  
  


\---

**Author's Note:**

> So this fic, huh? If you follow me on twitter (@sapphyreblayze, hit me up!), you might remember me mentioning this a few times
> 
> I began writing this weeks ago, but hit a brick wall. Two nights ago, however, I got struck with sudden inspiration to revise the fic with Alfred as the on-looker, rather than with Jason as the third person narrator, and here we are!
> 
> I know this ain't the first fic with this premise, in fact I was partially inspired by 'I Measure Every Grief I Meet' by loosingletters, but what I'm more interested in exploring in this au is the long-term aftermath of Bruce's death in Ethiopia, rather than the short-term. In other words, despite the title being a direct reference to Tim's introduction story, this is less 'A Lonely Place of Dying', and more 'Under the Red Hood'
> 
> Who is that masked man indeed? I'm fairly certain it's painfully obvious, but if I ever get around to continuing this series, we'll get there. This fic was mainly meant to explore the idea of Jason as Batman because I find the idea of teenage Jason being Batman after Bruce's death painfully tragic. That line about him playing dress up in his dad's clothes is the whole reason I wrote this.
> 
> Of course Dick was Batman first, Jason was only 15 when DiTF happened after all, but in my eyes, Dick can never be Batman permanently. He's *supposed* to be Nightwing, that's his destiny. Being Batman isn't fulfilling for him, it goes against who he is as a person. Hence the whole flash-back with Jason and Dick's argument. I also brought in Kory and the Titans because I'm a huge New Teen Titans and DickKory fan and wanted an excuse to push my 'Dick belongs with the Titans and they are extremely important to him' agenda. That "Robins need light" line is literally lifted from an issue of NTT.
> 
> Also, the thing Jason did that no one talks about is, of course, murdering the Joker. The reason Dick can't bring himself to admit it isn't because he hates Jason for doing it or anything - Dick literally did kill the Joker in canon at one point, and the only reason he didn't here is honestly that he never got the chance to confront him post-Ethiopia - rather it's because he's horrified that a kid would be driven to deliberately hunt someone down and kill them for revenge, and doesn't want to think about how Jason must have been in that moment. Alfred similarly isn't mad the Joker's dead (he'd have absolutely done it himself with his shotgun 100%; he tortured his grandson and then murdered his son ffs), but more that he's worried that bringing it up will cause Jason to have a breakdown. Jason's come to view himself as a killer - he killed his father (in his eyes) and then killed the Joker - and that worried Alfred to no end. He doesn't kill as Batman, because he knows Bruce would hate that, but he is more brutal than Bruce ever was, partially due to his anger at Bruce's death, and partially because he just doesn't care at all about his own safety. In his eyes, being Batman is a burden he must bear to make up for 'causing' Bruce's death. Dick's allowed to be happy, but he isn't. And that combined with the fact that he doesn't really have anyone in his life besides Alfred has caused him to become totally emersed in this life as Batman. Another reason why he feels he's best suited for the job - he doesn't have anything to lose. 
> 
> That's also why I didn't introduce Tim, or Steph, or anyone else yet. I was originally planning on having Tim show up when Jason was still Robin, acting as like... a rival-Robin, because he saw how out of control Jason was getting after Bruce's death, but I scrapped that, because I wanted to emphasis how alone Jason was. Tim will show up with his 'Batman needs a Robin' shtick later on in this au. Just not now.
> 
> UPDATE: 22/07/20
> 
> I made some changes. Some technical, like fixing the tense which originally switched halfway through for no reason, and others relating to the narrative, like changing the quotation at the end of Alfred's internal flashback-monologue-thing to be from Elizabeth Barrett Browning's sonnet 'How Do I Love Thee?' as I felt the original quotation was too long and interrupted the flow of the narrative, (and I love that "love thee better after death" quote and feel it works better here), as well cutting out the cliffhanger ending, in case I never get back to it (it just seems kinda tacky in a fic like this).
> 
> I do actually have plans to get back to this au, but a 'Under the Red Hood' re-write is not in the immediate future. Instead I wanna focus on Jason's interactions with *other* characters like the Justice League and Stephanie Brown. Bruce will still constantly be on his mind though. Everything always comes back to Jason and Bruce with me, they live rent free in my mind. And Jaybats really is too much like his old man for his own good...


End file.
